


Different can be a good thing (But then different becomes weird and weird becomes neurotic)

by saint_troll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Gas-N-Sip, Gen, Human AU, M/M, Work In Progress, titled like a Fall Out Boy song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_troll/pseuds/saint_troll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel IS Steve at the local Gas N’Sip.  No Angel of the Lord backstory, he simply IS Steve who is going through a rough patch since his ex girlfriend April broke it off and kicked him out.  Dean is a frequent customer from a nearby carpentry business.  He usually stops by on the way home to pick up something to eat, occasionally a few beers and an ever present pack of menthols.  He overhears Nora asking Steve out and asks him about it a few days later when checking out.  When a flustered Steve stumbles to explain, things get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different can be a good thing (But then different becomes weird and weird becomes neurotic)

"What?" Steve does a double take as he slides the sixer of Black & Tan into a plastic bag along side a package of jerky and a pack of menthols. The guy across the counter's lips tremble as a blush rises to his cheeks. "I'm totally not creeping on you, man. Just... last week... I was grabbing a bag of Funions when I heard her ask you out." He clears his throat. "Wondered how it worked out."

Why would some guy, even a regular, give a crap about anything in his life? He’d grown to accept his role as a nameless, faceless clerk. This man’s questions didn’t exactly jive with long held preconceptions. "It was..."

"Fine?"

Attempting to hide the all too quickly forming frown, Steve avoids eye contact. "Yes, fine. That'll be $17.58."

"Yeah?" The guy says, laying a twenty down.

Steve recognizes the customer now. He’s one of the construction workers that stops in around a quarter til six weekdays. It’s a lot later than that today, which is strange. Still, any opportunity to have an actual conversation is rare. Clearing his throat, Steve checks to see if there's anyone else milling around the shop before he finally offers a better answer. After all the guy isn’t leaving, any further avoidance of the topic might come off as rude. And the last thing he needs is another complaint called into corporate.

"It wasn't a date." He falters as the other man's eyebrows slowly arch. Quickly making change, Steve adds. "I mean, it could've been. I was..." his eyes zero in on curious green ones before falling to settle upon the worn red of the counter. “...babysitting." There; his humiliation has come full circle. But somehow, it feels like a weight off his chest. Sure, it’s now public knowledge that not only is he a loser that works at a gas station but also a loser that can’t even get a date. Things could be worse, he decides. If April could see him now, the smugness on her face alone would be enough reason for Steve to crawl into bed and not come back out until everyone he’d ever known had died or moved away.

"Babysitting?!” The surprise is all too apparent in the guy’s voice. Steve sighs quietly as he hands over his groceries. “She's crazy, man." Eyebrows drawn together, Steve dares to peer up. Nora may be a lot of things but mentally unstable she was not. "Letting a catch like you slip through her fingers..." The guy lets out whistle to emphasize his words.

It's the cheeky grin and lazy wink that follows that really gets under Steve's collar. He’d played nice. It was an affront to that very kindness that this guy, this construction worker, couldn’t at least do the same. While he may not be the towering personification of atlas in a hard hat, it wasn't like he was a bad guy or that much of a failure. At least, he didn't think so. Sure, he’d been officially homeless for almost a month after April had kicked him out. But, he gotten past that and so many other things. He’d had to start again with nothing and look at everything he had now!

Defenses rising, Steve zeroes in a heated glare at the man before his register saves him from further humiliation by alerting him that there's a pump outside needing authorization to begin fueling. When he turns back around, the guy's slipping out the front door. Steve lets out another weary sigh and begins to unpack the remains of last night's truck so that Nora will be able to do the order when she comes in tomorrow morning.

***

It's over a week before Steve sees the construction worker again. It’s Thursday so it's not all that unusual that he's in. It was just, the guy had actually seemed like he’d been avoiding the place. Steve evades all contact until he finally shuffles up to the register and requests his usual menthols. 

"Hey, Steve." He's blushing before Steve can even open his mouth to reply. 

Well, that shot his plan to ignore the guy all to hell. "Hello."

"Dean. Uh, you can call me Dean."

Steve clears his throat before responding. What’s he playing at today? Another round of humiliation or is he just going to shove the knife in further? "Can I get you anything else, Dean?" He watches as the the other man chews nervously at his bottom lip. It’s a strange quirk for someone to have when mocking another. Tilting his head to the side, Steve waits for a response.

"Nah, man. I'm good. What do I owe ya?"

Business as usual, then. "$5.39."

Whistling again, Dean shrugs and pulls out his wallet. "Is it me or do they go up every day?"

"We only increase prices when corporate directs us to do so..." Steve explains patiently. He knows exactly how testy smokers can get over the steady increase of tobacco costs. 

Dean's lips twitch into a smile. "I was just…” He meets Steve’s eyes for a moment before looking away. “Nevermind."

Frowning, Steve slides the ten dollar bill into his register and makes change. He ignores Dean's amusement as he counts back the change. "One makes forty, fifty, seventy-five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten."

"You babysitting again this Friday?" Dean asks as he pockets his money.

Steve's finally had enough of this, whatever this is. "You know, as a service worker, I'm only required to be friendly to a point. You come in here and insult me, I..." He can hear Dean talking but he simply talks over him.

"...cuz, I was wondering if you'd like to have a beer with me and..."

Words dying on his lips, Steve cocks his head to the side. "What?"

Rubbing the back of his now flushed neck, Dean quickly mutters. "Would you like to have a beer with me Friday?"

Steve is raking his mind for any kind of coherent response. However, it seeks his brain has abruptly decided to take an unannounced leave of absence. "A beer?" He ask hesitantly.

"Yeah."

“Just one?” Oh, now he sounds like an idiot, a moron even.

"Or more, if you'd like..." Dean chuckles as the nervousness in his smile bleeds away.

"With you and... the guys?" He asks awkwardly.

Dean clears his throat. "Preferably not..."

The blush that had once been spreading over Dean’s face darkens as they speak. It isn’t like the guy is typically shy, Steve considers before a realization strikes him square in the face. "Oh."

"Oh?"

Hoping that his voice doesn’t sound as choked and nervous to Dean as it does to himself, Steve swallows before answering. "Okay."

***

Sam chuckles as his brother recounts the conversation he'd had with Blue Eyes himself. Guy seriously sounded like he was wound up just this side of too tight. And that was saying something coming from yours truly. Still, Dean had been laying on the details for a couple weeks now. It actually surprised Sam just exactly how much dirt his so-called older brother could dig up on a guy he saw maybe four-five times a week for a minute or two here and there. One thing was for sure, any doubt he'd harbored about Dean's bisexuality was utterly destroyed at the resounding ode to the guy’s… what was it that Dean had said… sapphire eyes, a voice like fine whiskey, lips that were meant for kissing and legs that... Well, that was the general idea anyway. And truth be told, it was pretty disgusting. Sam couldn’t stop smiling as his brother nearly floated around the apartment. 

Out of sheer curiosity, Sam had popped into the Gas N’Sip a couple days prior to his brother’s latest ode. He’d seen nothing of Dean's words in the quiet, geeky guy manning the register. He'd even said as much to Jess who had reminded him that everyone had their own aesthetic of beauty. Maybe Dean saw something in this Steve that Sam couldn't from his heteronormative standpoint. He'd tried to argue that being nearly raised by the guy, that Dean didn’t exactly contradict the heteronorm, whatever.... Jess just smiled and patted his hand before drifting off to sleep, leaving him to lie awake for over an hour pondering how he’d missed seeing this part of his brother for so long

***

Unfortunately for Steve, he works Friday. So, he spends the entire shift playing out scenarios in his head about their... he refuses to call it a date, he’s made that mistake before... their meeting when he gets off. He’s on at least the tenth scenario where Dean all but strings him up by his underwear in the middle of some sports bar pub thing when Nora finally notices.

“Everything okay, Steve?” She neatly stocks a box of peanuts before continuing. “You’ve looked troubled all day.

He’d love to ask her if he has the word chump written across his forehead; seeable only by those that would aim to take advantage of his kindness. But, that would imply all kinds of bad things about Nora. And babysitting scheme aside, he actually thinks she’s pretty great. It’s not often he sees a single mother like her actually making it somewhere at a place like Gas N’Sip. “I have a… thing… after work.”

“A date?!” Nora’s face lights up as she settles up next to Steve where he’s zoning the health and beauty aisle.

“It’s not a date.” He denies quickly, hands stumbling over their work. “We’re just having a beer.” Steve explains, then adds. “A couple beers, maybe.”

“Steve, honey, that’s a date.” She pats the top of his hand before returning to the product in front of them. “So, what’s she like?”

If he’d thought he’d been finding it hard to breathe during this conversation before, Nora’s question steals the air from his lungs. If he didn’t know better, Steve would swear the Earth actually stopped spinning. The ringing in his ears alone… 

“...or he?” Nora giggles and moves past the gender change with near a flawless save.

“Um.” The words are stuck in his throat. It’s not a date. It can’t be. Why would someone like Dean want to have anything to do with someone like him? Steve clears his throat softly before answering in a near whisper. “His name’s Dean.”

“Oh! How’d you meet?!” 

The cheerfulness in Nora’s tone must be contagious. It has to be. It’s the only explanation Steve has for the actions that follow. Chuckling, he replies. “Here, actually. He’s a… a customer.” He waits for Nora to chastise him before continuing. “A regular, actually.”

“So…” She grins mischievously at him. “Who asked who?”

“It’s not a date, Nora.” He insists.

“Uh, huh. Tell me exactly what happened. I’ll be the judge of that.”

Side-eying her, Steve lets out a weary sigh and relocates to the automotive aisle. Nora, of course, follows him. Considering she’s his boss, he’s actually shocked she’s allowing personal stuff to interfere with their work so easily. Sure, it’s mid-Friday morning… a typically slow time before the lunch-hour rush, but really? It’s obvious that she’s not going to take no for an answer. In a rush of words, Steve recaps the events of the day before. When he’s done, Nora is blessedly silent. At least, for a moment or two.

“You ninny, of course it’s a date! Are you meeting up right after work?”

He nods, the worry he’d been hiding suddenly spreading over his features. Sighing, he give 

Nora a pleading look. “What is he even expecting from me?”

The arched eyebrow Nora shoots him belies so much more than the achingly sweet smile she follows it with. That’s it, he’s going to be sick. He’s going to… allow his boss to lead him towards the back hallway away from the sales floor. She adjusts his collar and cups his face in her hands. “Steve, stop stressing it so much. He asked you.” Nora squares her shoulder as she continues. “Tell you what, I know the register isn’t your favorite station…” Before he can object, Nora adds. “I also know that you are amazing in the back room. You get those two pallets broke down and sorted… I’ll let you off early. Give you a little time to get ready before you meet up with Dean?”

Pressing his lips together, Steve tilts his head in her hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Shh! I want to. Steve, as long as you’ve worked here… I’ve never heard of you going out let alone on a date since all that nasty stuff with April.” He snorts at that. Apparently, Nora either misses it or ignores it. “Go on. Let loose. Have some fun. Life isn’t all storm clouds and rain, you know?”

“Thank you.” He whispers soft but sincere. Yeah, he needs the hours and the paycheck more than he needs the time to prepare for a night of abject humiliation. But he sees Nora’s offer for what it is… an act of kindness from a friend. It’s not like he’s got a whole lot of them. She just might be the only one worth anything in Rexford.

Stepping back, Nora smiles at him before playfully motioning at the door to the stockroom. “Chop, chop!”

Steve saunters into the back and quickly tears into the pallets allowing the easy focus in the silence. True to her word, Nora doesn’t call him up to man a register once. Not even during the height of the rush. By the time she wanders in, he’s stacking the last empty wooden pallet by the back door and shoving the plastic wrap in the garbage. With a smile, he hands over the keys to the front door and walks with her towards the time clock.

“Now, stop stressing… I want to hear all about Monday. Got it?”

Blushing, Steve nods and punches in his employee code. She walks him to the door and waves him off with a smile. If only he had as much faith in the night as she seemed to. Unlocking and climbing onto his bike, Steve heads towards his apartment to change and call a cab to take him to the bar where Dean had said they were to meet.

***

There's a lot less neon than he'd been expecting on the storefront of the bar. Trail's End. It was innocuous at best. With a steadying breath, he pays the cabbie and heads inside. Dean is surprisingly easy to find tucked away at a small table along the wall. If the three empty bottles are any indication, Steve’s either late our Dean had shown early.

"Did I get the time wrong?" He asks shyly. 

"Nah, I got off work early."

The ‘me too’ catches in his throat. Forcing a smile through his nerves, Steve settles down across from Dean. He barely has a chance to speak before a waitress approaches and takes his order. It’s returned quickly as they sit in awkward silence. When it’s finally broken, they speak at the same time. Dean chuckles as Steve flusters over his words and blushes.

“I’m sorry, go ahead.”

Dean gives him an easy smile. “I was just saying that you look good to-tonight.”

There’s a normal, more polite response than the blank stare that Steve gives him… and he knows it. Truly, he was rather perplexed as to what was going on. Sure Nora had insisted this was a date but since when did construction worker types date--guys? This had to be an elaborate prank. He wasn’t that easy of a target, was he? April’s angry words hung heavy in the back of his mind as he took a deep breath and finally muttered back a confused “Thanks, you too.” Downing almost half his beer, Steve looked over Dean with a wary gaze. “S-s-sorry, I’m not a great conversationalist?”

Lips pinched tight, Dean nods. “Actually, you are… when you aren’t all wound up. Half the people that shop at Gas N’Sip could easily drive a couple blocks more, for cheaper gas too, but they don’t.”

Steve can’t help but let the surprise watch over his features. “Why would they do that?”

“How many people do you know by name that shop there, man?”

“...I didn’t know your name.”

“It never came up… how many?”

He attempts a rough estimate rather than actually counting. “A couple dozen, maybe?”

“Exactly. You treat ‘em like people not like an annoyance. Believe me, others in your spot are not so kind.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, man. Some do.” Dean pulls a drink from his beer his eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

That alone is disconcerting. But somehow, with just a few words, Dean has sparked a small flicker of actual hope in Steve’s chest. He seems genuine enough. “Um…” A collage of conversation topics run through his mind, each of them worse than the one before. Finally, Steve clears his throat and asks. “How long have you done construction work?” 

An amused smirk spreads over Dean’s face. He’s picking at the label of his bottle as he answers. “Actually, I’m a carpenter…”

“Oh…” The spark of hope is snuffed out by a dark cloud of shame. “Sorry, I…”

“Hey, man. Don’t apologize. Why would you know the difference if you aren’t one, right?”

The spark flickers back to life. “Just embarrassing, any idiot should know the difference…”

“Not really, both work with wood… build things. Easy to mix-up. Small stuff, don’t stress it so much.” Dean’s gaze now has an almost worried look to it. “Like, man… are you a cashier, clerk, associate… I don’t know. It’s all pointless labels really.”

Flinching, Steve takes to his beer and nearly polishes it off. “Pointless, yeah.” That sounded more like what he was expecting; more like April.

“Yeah, point is… you work your ass off. I’ve seen you.”

“Uh…”

“Sorry, that probably sounds like I’m some kind of stalker.” Dean blushes and leans over the table to rest on his elbows. “Just… whenever I’m in, you’re bustling, man.”

“Thanks?” Steve is still trying to figure out why he would even be a blip on Dean’s radar. 

Waving down the waitress, Dean orders them both another drink. “So… what do you do when you aren’t gracing your customers with your presence?”

The same easy smile is spread across his face. Steve finds it a little unnerving. Or maybe it was the question. It’s not like he can just blurt out that up until around two months ago he’d been sleeping on the stockroom floor at the gas station until Nora had caught him asleep in his sleeping bag one morning. Instead of firing him, like he’d expected, she’d switched his shift the next day with another employee’s and dragged him to the welfare office, the Salvation Army and a handful of other places. By 5pm that day, he’d been approved for some kind of assistance to help homeless get into a place of their own, had a card on it’s way to Nora’s house with money for food and a fist of applications he still needed to fill out. By the following Monday, he’d signed a lease on an efficiency apartment a few blocks away from work. But that wasn’t the type of thing you talked about on a… date. If this was even a date.

“Uh, I bike around town sometimes. Usually, I kinda stay… at home.”

“You read, play video-games… what?”

“I cook? I have some plants… I used to read.” He used to read a lot--before April’d literally trashed his books. He simply didn’t have the money to do more than pick up a few paperback second hand from time to time anymore. Steve’s face fell. “Wow, I sound exciting.”

“Used to?” 

Unfortunately, Dean appears truly curious. Bowing his head, Steve mumbles off a quick reply. “Bad break up.”

Hissing, Dean nods his head. “Those suck, man. This one guy, he keyed the shit outta my car… I mean, was that really necessary? It’s not like I was the one cheating.”

Steve picks up on the pronoun immediately. Maybe Nora was right after all, this was a date! He is so startled by the realization that it took a moment or two for Dean’s words to sink in. “Your ex keyed your car after you broke up with him because he cheated on you?!”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Right?!” Dean chuckles as he looks down at the table lost in thought for a moment before drawing his eyes back up to Steve’s face. “Anyway. You cook? You any good?”

“I’m told my taste is rather pedestrian but I like to think that I am?” His words suddenly coming easier, Steve finds himself nearly preening under Dean’s attention rather than blushing. 

“Pedestrian? How?” 

“Grilled Cheese, burgers, that kind of thing…” He pauses contemplating for a brief second not continuing; not letting any more personal details out. “Except I like to mess with them. Add in things people usually don’t.”

“Like?”

“Peanut butter, sprouts… those funky flavored mayos grocery stores sell.”

Dean hums as the smile on his face widens. “Peanut butter?” He asks in disbelief.

“I know, I know. It sounds disgusting but spread that on a burger with a fried egg, you’d be amazed.” Steve watches Dean’s adam apple bob as he swallows.

“...different. But sometime different can be a good thing.”

The wink that’s shot his way startles what has to be a nest of butterflies in Steve’s gut. “So, I’m told… but then different becomes weird and weird becomes neurotic.”

Laughing out loud, Dean settles back into his seat. “Guess we’re all a little crazy in our own ways.”

Steve jumps at the chance to gag himself with a few mouthfuls of beer. There was casual conversation and then there was… where he just went. 

***

“Want a beer?” Dean asks distracting Steve from his quiet observation of his apartment. It’s nothing quite like what he’d expected a construction, no--a carpenter’s place to look like. Sure, there’s more what Steve assumes is handcrafted, wooden furniture scattered around the place but it’s tidy. Neat, even. He silently chastises himself for his assumption as he nods at Dean. He’d only had three back at the bar, one more wouldn’t hurt. That and his nerves weren’t exactly settled. Sure, Dean had gone a long way to prove that this little date wasn’t just some stunt being pulled but now Steve has worse worries. Worries like what was he doing here? Why was he in this man’s house full well knowing that not only were his intentions… well, intentions… but also knowing that no matter what small joy some fling with Dean would bring that it would end painful and horrific. Just like the rest, Steve muses as his focus zeroed in on a collection of hung pictures. In them, Dean is pressed up against a tall, smiling brunette. There’s a familiarity between them that briefly reminds him of his time with April. If this is Dean’s crazy ex that keyed his car, Steve doesn’t have a chance in hell. He’s just the rebound, if he’s anything.

He forces a smile when Dean returns with the proffered beer. Steve quickly opens it and forces himself to sip slowly at the amber liquid. “You look like you were having fun…” He offers congenially. 

Chuckling, Dean takes a pull off his own beer. “Yeah, me and Sammy had a blast that summer.”

Steve can’t help but notice the way Dean’s smile reaches all the way up to the corner of his eyes as they dance over the pictures. Yeah, a snowball definitely has more of a chance surviving hell than he does with Dean. He hums quietly in response. 

“That one.” Dean points at a photo of the two of them arm in arm wearing a couple of ridiculous sombreros while their friends look on in mirth. Steve’s mood darkens even more but he remains silent. “Sammy got so drunk, me and Charlie had to carry him home.” Whistling, Dean lets out a sigh. “Jess was not too happy about that one.” He takes a drink of his beer before continuing. “She was against the whole bachelor party thing from the get go… way I see it, it’s a tradition. You can’t just tell a man he can’t have one last night of craziness before he signs the dotted line… know what I mean?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Steve turns towards Dean. He’s thoroughly confused now. If Sammy isn’t Dean’s ex then… 

Seeming to realize the problem, Dean’s own eyebrows crawl toward his forehead. “My kid brother.” 

Steve clears his throat as a blush rises to his cheeks. He doesn’t think he’s blushed this much in years. “So, uh, not your ex then?”

Amusement twinkles in Dean’s eyes. “No, not my ex… and thank you for that horrible mental image.”

Flinching slightly, Steve returns his attention to the pictures to look at them in a new light. Now that he knows, it’s suddenly obvious they’re brothers. Another surge of jealousy, albeit a wholly different kind, lingers in his mind. Steve’s own family has never been close. He hasn’t seen his own siblings since he moved out over a decade ago. 

He’s knee deep in his own memories when he feels Dean’s finger combing gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s embarrassing, Steve thinks, how quickly the sensation affects him as goosebumps raise up on his neck and down his arms. When Dean presses a chaste kiss on his shoulder, he could swear it burns through the material of his shirt and marks his skin. Slowly, he’s being moved. Dean’s hands are guiding him until they are face to face. Their beers are set aside on a nearby surface and Dean’s leaning in to kiss him before Steve thinks to breathe. 

Dean’s hand is back in his hair and there’s absolutely nothing that Steve can do but hang on for the ride as their mouth slide over one another. His heart is hammering fast and hard in his chest. And the taste of Dean’s lips? He knows in an instant that it’s addicting. When their bodies shift towards the couch, Steve follows willingly. It isn’t until Dean is kneeling above him panting with their faces inches apart, that the reality of their position occurs to him. Panic flares in his chest.

Shifting, he crawls backwards a few feet. Dean doesn’t immediately move in on him. That in itself is a reassurance. Instead, he seems just as shell shocked at the way events played out. When he finally moves, it’s to position himself on his side along a narrow strip of couch to Steve’s right. 

Wordlessly, Dean reaches up and draws his fingers over the angles of his face. A small smile plays on his lips as he quietly watches Steve. 

A million outcomes of the night play through his head as he lies there awkwardly; shoulder pressed against Dean’s chest. Finally --finally-- when they wind down, he arches and flops onto his side. Leaning in, he initiates this kiss; his free hand seeking out the expanse of Dean’s neck as they surge forward and then withdraw until left breathless in the wake. 

***

The familiar sting of a lit room when trying to sleep somewhere unfamiliar is the first thing Steve notices when he wakes. The second is that there is a warm heavy weight pressing and trapping him against the couch. With a grunt, he moves to sit up and open his eyes only to remember where he is and why he’s subsequently squished into the back of someone else’s sofa. Dean. He’d --they’d-- fallen asleep making out? Christ, he really was a loser. 

The soft rumble of snoring derails Steve from his thoughts. Looking down, he’s met with the softened edges of Dean’s face snuggled up against his chest. Okay, so there was no reason to freak out… he wasn’t the only one to literally crash after a few beers mid-make out, right? But now what?! It’s going to be awkward as all get out when he finally wakes up but… it’s a total slimeball move to sneak out. Besides that, if Steve somehow managed to slither away undetected, he’d never be able to look Dean in the eye again when he came into the Gas N’Sip. 

Heaving out a stress-laden sigh, he settles back down into the back of the couch. It can’t be past midnight yet. He might as well try and catch some sleep before the unpleasant morning coming up.

***

Steve surges into alertness with every sense narrowed down to the rough skin of Dean’s thumb dragging over his lips. A gasp finds it way past both lips and fingers. Startled, Steve zeros in on Dean’s green eyes. He’s smiling affectionately down at him. It’s unnerving. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Blinking owlishly, Steve shifts only to remember too little too late that he’s literally trapped between Dean and the back of the couch. He clears his throat and tries to will away the sudden embarrassment that causes him to flush from his ears down to his neck. “Morning?” Steve replies shyly. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to seven… I wasn’t sure if you had a morning shift or what.”

So had Dean set an alarm or something? Steve hadn’t heard it. And if he had, was everything on the couch last night more planned than he’d originally thought? Dean’s fingers are rubbing at the crease between Steve’s eyebrows. Once again, the gentle touch startles him. The grimace leaves his face only to vacate it’s place to a look that has to betray his discomfort because Dean removes his hand and shuffles backwards.

The entire scene plays out in his mind before he can think to reach out and grab Dean. Instead, Steve watches as Dean’s eyes widen before he falls off the couch with a loud thump. Dragging himself out from the comfort of the cushions, Steve peers over the edge and down at him. He’s expecting anger, resentment, something, anything but the short burst of giggles he witnesses.


End file.
